Aria, The Sorrowed
by Minx Raine
Summary: The journey of new planeswalker Aria Veritas is winding as she encounters walkers who have been around the block. Some are friends, some are teachers, some are enemies and some are lovers. Rated for language and graphic scenes. M:tG is not my property, I just have fun with it.
1. Chapter 1 - A Spark Ignites

I lived a life of solitude. I have been called The Sorrowed, The Cursed and the Recaller. My name is Aria Veritas and I am a special class of being. I am a planeswalker.

You may not be aware of this, but we live in a large multiverse made up of different places of existence called planes. My plane was called Celdon. I use the past tense because it no longer exists so I've been told. Good riddance I say. After what my people tried to do to me...

Well, it's a long story and it's not exactly painless for me to talk about. Let's just say that my people turned on me because of my natural curiosity and my spark, that is, my ability to planeswalk, ignited. That's why I'm here on the plane of Palendara. Well, this isn't where I ended up at first, but like I said, long story.

If you really want to know, I suppose I can tell you. I should start with how I came to be known as The Sorrowed. It is, in a way, my origin story. I think that's what they call it these days anyway.

It all started back on Celdon, like I said, my home plane. It was a mountainous place, that often had more lava flowing through it than actual rivers. I was born into a clan of skilled pyromancers. Given the chaotic nature of our power, we tended not to mix with other clans except during major celebrations.

My gran used to say that my curiosity was that of a cat, and that it would get me killed some day. I was curious about the other clans of Celdon, but mostly that of the elves that lived in the swamp lands. I had heard tales that they could raise the dead.

When my gran, the spiritual leader of our clan, passed to the other side, I was distraught. My young foolish head thought that maybe the dark elves could help me to bring her back. I had no idea what I was in for, and what would await me for my decision.

I had traveled for days through the valleys, across a river of lava and into the desolate swamp lands to the west of the Kerny mountains where my clan lived. Finally though, I had reached the camp of the nomadic dark elves of Ated swamp. I was greeted by the tip of a poison tipped spear pointed at my throat. I was bound, gagged and drug through sludge and waste into the center of their camp.

For two days I was interrogated until they were sure I was not a spy sent by the other clans. The elders decided that my intentions were simply to be reunited with my grandmother and they reluctantly agreed to teach me. After a couple of weeks, my skills in necromancy had grown enough that I was able to summon spirits, though they only lasted for a short time. I wasn't able to draw in enough black mana to sustain them for very long. Now if it was red mana, I could draw in so much I tended to burn myself from it's raw power.

In the middle of one of my training exercises a large commotion broke my concentration. I turned to see a large group of pyromancers from my clan, along with a few of the trackers from a neighboring forest clan staring at me with disgust. Among them was my father, our clan elder, and my brother. The look on my father's face made my heart sink.

The swamp elves, though greatly outnumbered, took up their arms and prepared to defend their home. I stood there between the two lines, unsure of how to prevent what was about to come.

"Father! Please do not hurt them!" I begged. "I know you do not trust them, but they have not hurt me."

"You have defiled yourself with their dark magic," he proclaimed with a crackling hiss, his anger rising to the point that his hair was now aglow. "How could you Aria? You know our laws. To come here was forbidden for anyone from our clan. To think that you willingly sought them out...You must be purified and this place will be razed to the ground!"

"NO!" I cried. I knew that to be purified meant that I would be burned until my flesh was melted away and only the meat beneath would remain. If I survived the fiery torment, I would live forever scarred and shamed for my actions. And the dark elves and their homes would be destroyed. Before I could do much else, the dark elves began summoning an army of dead, both zombie and spirit alike to aide them.

The two factions collided with such ferocity that I was overwhelmed by the feelings of hatred and anger. The dark elves were merely defending their territory, and my people were there to destroy it. It was all my fault, but I could not make anyone listen to reason with my determined and frightened shrieks. When it became clear that both sides now hated me and likely wanted me dead, I ran from the battlefield. Even at the age of nineteen I was still very much a naive child.

I ran as far and as long as I could, stumbling through the brambles, slipping on moss covered rocks and struggling through bogs. I ran until I couldn't hear the sounds of metal, wood and screams. I ran until I couldn't smell burning and dead flesh. Finally I collapsed at the foot of Burden Mountain, near the edge of a fresh, bubbling lava flow. My heart was racing in my chest and my lungs burned with the effort to breathe. I may have passed out for a moment or two, but it wasn't long before someone of unbelievable strength shook me awake by grabbing my arm roughly.

I looked up into the burning eyes of my father. Without any words he hauled me to my feet by my arm and tossed me toward a couple of his men. They drug me over to a nearby tree and bound me to it. I watched in disbelief as my father drew upon the mana of the lava flow and began summoning a large fireball.

With my heart thundering in my chest, I panicked and began to inadvertently draw in as much mana as I had ever come into contact with. Every mountain and swamp my eyes had seen gave me it's power and I unleashed a whirlwind of fire that had never been seen. I was overcome by the heat and intensity of the explosions around me. I thought I was going to die and that was when I felt a change deep inside me, as though some fire within ignited. I passed out, but when I woke up, I was in an entirely different place.

It was a strange, strange place to wake up in. Here I am, just a girl from a vast, mountain range covered land waking up in the middle of a crazy city, not understanding what the hell just happened. I mean my father had literally just tried to kill me!

I was in an alleyway, covered in still steaming blisters and dirt. The sounds of people milling about the streets and general commerce that I was only used to during celebration times. My clothes were in burnt tatters and I had no money. Very slowly I sat myself up and leaned against the dirty wall with a grimace. I grit my teeth as I look around, trying to ignore the pain I'm in. Though I am from a pyromancer clan, my ability to regenerate my body was still slow and unbalanced. I knew I would be left scarred from the mana burn.

Once I felt strong enough, I stood and crept along the wall until I got a good view of the street ahead. There were people everywhere bartering for food and wears at the stalls. Others were marching or riding about on horseback as though they held some authority. The smells of fresh breads and succulent fruits tempted my empty stomach, but I was in no condition to steal. And with no money, that would be my only option. I sank back down against the wall, trying to stay conscious. I was unaware that I was being watched by several sets of eyes. In the moment, I was more concerned about the state of my health. If I didn't get water and food, I would die of starvation. If I didn't find a source of water to wash away the dirt and grime I would likely die of infection.I knew I wouldn't be able to draw upon red mana again for awhile in my current state, lest it aggravate my injuries. Unable to bear the thoughts anymore, I succumbed to my dizziness and passed out once more.

When I awoke hours later, I was in a bed. I could tell from the noises coming from a nearby window that I was still somewhere in the city. As I slowly regained my senses, I could feel the stinging in my skin but it wasn't as profound as it had been in the alley way. In addition to the hustle and bustle outside I could hear two distinct voices, both masculine. It was dark, so I couldn't see much of the room around me. I strained my ears to listen.

"Given the state of the burn marks, I'd say it was done by a skilled pyromancer," said the first male voice. It was deep in tone, like a commander of vast armies. "Perhaps we should consider taking her to the Legion. Better their sense of order than the chaos of the Cult or the instability of the League."

"No," said the other voice, which had more of a soothing, if not slightly manipulative tone to it. "They would never take her. She has the signs of necromancy about her. Besides I have read her mind while she slept. She has great potential within her, but took on too much mana at once. She burned herself."

"Chandra perhaps then?" queried the first.

"And stifle her precious freedom?" the second answered with a bit of a disdainful snort. "The suggestion I have, you won't like."

"Surely you cannot be considering Liliana?! After all she has done to stab you in the back?" the first responded in shock at such a suggestion. "I would prefer the vampire lord to her."

"Is there any better with necromancy?" the second asked. "Besides, Sorin has enough on his plate getting Innistrad back in order. Tybalt has been causing him great pains to the effect of having to call upon old summons not ordered for ages."

"I did not realize things were so bad. Perhaps I should pay him a visit and offer a hand."

"I don't know that he would accept it, but now that his angel's are free, I'm sure he'll either beat Tybalt into submission or run him out," came the response. "In any case, I still think this the best course, whether we like it or not."

"I still disagree. I know that I could pose this to Chandra as a challenge worthy of her power."

"We shall see. By all means, go and search ol' flame head out while I seek out the mistress of dark things, and we'll see where we end up. In the end, it must be the girl's decision."

I knew they were talking about me, and as much as I wanted to continue listening, I could feel another wave of dizziness washing over me. Once again I lost consciousness, wondering who the two men where and why they were deciding my fate.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Illusion Mask

When I woke up again I was alone. Next to the bed was a tray with some food and a glass of water on it. Carefully I sat up, still feeling a slight sting as my skin was still incredibly tender. I imagined it was probably a bright pinkish red if the lights were on. Thankfully it was quite dim in the room.

Once I was comfortable I pulled the tray over toward me and began to nibble on a chunk of bread. It smelled as though it had been freshly baked that day but it was cool to the touch. I wondered idly how long it had been sitting out.

"Only a few hours," came the voice from earlier. The 'second' man. I jumped, even in the dim light of the room it was visible. He chuckled but remained leaning against the doorway. His face was obscured by some sort of hooded cloak and the darkness in the room. "I figured you would be hungry when you woke up. I took the liberty of getting you things that were close to what you seemed to like in your memories."

My face contorted slightly as the implications of his words seemed to strike me. My memories? Had he read my mind somehow? Granted it would certainly explain how he was able to answer my unasked question about the food. I suddenly felt incredibly violated and vulnerable.

"Yes, I read your mind. Aria, is it?" he said as he pushed away from the door. "It was the only way I could figure out what happened to you while you were unconscious. I am Jace Beleren and I am also a planeswalker."

"Planeswalker?" I asked.

"You're a fast learner, though I suppose even what I'm about to tell you would be a stretch for you to understand right away," he said with another cryptic chuckle. He then took a seat near the end of the bed, lifting his hand and causing the lights to come up a bit. I could see now that the cloak was a dark blue, lined with odd light blue lines on it. I still couldn't see much of his face other than a shock of black hair sticking out and a pair of glowing eyes that were as blue as lightning.

"Now, how to put this," he said as he tapped two fingers against what I assume was his chin. "You are what is called a Planeswalker. When you panicked back home, you ignited a spark within you that allowed you to travel from, Celdon was it? To here."

"Where, exactly, am I?" I asked, not entirely buying his story.

"You are in my flat currently, on the plane of Ravnica. Quite frankly, you are lucky I got to you first."

"Ravnica?" I said, not meaning to sound stupid. "A spark?"

"Yes. As I said, it's a lot to take in," he said with slight amusement. "You see, there are many upon many planes in existence. We, meaning other planeswalkers like yourself, call the whole thing a multiverse, if you will. Ravnica is simply one plane, just as your Celdon is. Those who are born with the spark inside of them can travel between these planes of existence once it is ignited. Typically it takes a great amount of stress, such as almost being murdered, to ignite it."

"Why did you save me?" I looked up at him somewhat piteously.

"Because, the guilds of Ravnica don't need to fight over another planeswalker. With them already competing for control of the city," he said with a hint of frustration. Seeing the look of confusion on my face, he sighed.

"Guilds?" I quieried.

He nodded but paused his words for a moment as if trying, once again, to decide the best way to clarify.

"Ravnica is not a typical plane where tribes are seperated and occassionally vy for control of territory," he began to explain. "Here, the groups intermingle every day and are more organized. Well sort of anyway. There is no where in this city that you can go without running into guilds and their various feuds."

He took off his hood and ran a hand through his messy hair. "The entire plane is but a vast city," as he spoke, he began to move his hands in a deliberate manner. His hands began to glow, the light slowly spreading out from them until an illusion formed from the blue light. I could see buildings and courtyards. Fortresses and fountains. I was in awe at the sight, so much detail in such a small space. I had never witnessed this type of magic before.

"There are nine, well ten, organized groups throughout the city that want control. Each guild specializes in certain flavors of magic," he said, his gaze going slightly hazy as he stared at the illusion. A series of symbols appeared within the city.

"You think they would use me to that end?" I asked, briefly imagining myself as a member of one of these groups. It would be nice to have a place to belong now that I couldn't go home. Surely one of them would allow me refuge if I could prove myself useful.

"One specifically," he said, though the tightness of his face and the strain of his voice suggested that this was not a good idea. "If you were simply a pyromage, there would be four guilds who would be interested in molding you to their ends, but as you have begun the path toward necromancy, that leaves but one."

As he said this, one of the symbols grew brighter than the rest. Or perhaps they became dimmer, I couldn't be sure. It resembled the face of a monster and I scooted back on the bed a bit.

"The Cult of Rakdos," Jace's voice came out a bit monotone. "There leader is the demon Rakdos and the guild is there for his sick pleasure. They thrive on chaos and wish to overthrow all order. It is said they would all slaughter themselves if it were to please their master."

"I have seen your mind Aria, and I know," he said as the illusion began to fade and he looked up at me. "That there is far too much good in you to chance them getting a hold of you. They would eat you alive, perhaps literally."

I hung my head, suddenly ashamed that I had polluted myself with darker magics. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, "I never should have gone to the elves. I should have just accepted her passing and let go," I had begun to babble as I fought the emotions back.

"Silence," he said in a near whisper as he moved his hand. Suddenly, I couldn't move my lips. It was as if my mouth was sealed shut. I stared at him with wide eyes full of panic. It took me a few seconds to register the uncomfortable look that was on his face. He sighed and shook his head before looking at me with a slight sterness to him.

"Never regret your curiosity, for it is one of your finest traits and it will serve you well as a planeswalker," he said. "It will lead you to amazing places and wonderful discoveries. You will get to experience things that most people could never dream of, let alone fathom if they were to witness it. This is the path you were meant to take."

Once he had finished scolding me, I realized I could move my lips once more, yet I had nothing to say in response. I suppose I was contemplating his words.

"When your body is completely healed, I will take you to meet someone who can better help you with your necromagic," he said. "Until then, if you are feeling up to it, would you like to see Ravnica?"

My mind recalled the conversation I had overheard when I was in and out of consciousness. The other voice hadn't liked the idea of Jace taking me to see this mystery person, but what choice did I have? I had set myself on this path, I might as well learn what other's were willing to teach. I nodded slowly in agreement.

"Excellent," he said as he stood and placed some clothing on the bed. "I have already procured you some new clothing that I think will be more comfortable for you. As well as," he paused again, slight discomfort crossing his face for a split second before he gave me a slight look of pity. "Well, I have made you something."

He nodded toward something laying on top of the clothes. It was a finely crafted mask made out of metal mesh. My brows furrowed which led to a little bit of discomfort on the right side. I looked up at him in confusion.

"It seems that your body is healing faster than your face," he said gently. "Honestly, though Gideon did what he could, I'm not sure you will ever completely heal in parts. I made this mask for you, in the hopes that it would make you feel more comfortable while we are out so that you do not think others are judging you."

I could tell that Jace was trying to break it to me gently, but I worried still. "How bad is it?"

"To me, it isn't gruesome by any means, but Ravnica, beneath it all, is a city of vanity," he said. "I will not have anyone thinking you are a member of Rakdos or Golgari, or even a guildless one. While we are out, it is simply safer if you protect your healing flesh and stick by me. I will leave you to dress."

With that, he left me alone with my thoughts and the new clothing. After a few moments of quiet I moved off the bed slowly, taking note of which areas of skin seemed more sensitive than others. Carefully, I pulled off the tatters that had been my tribal clothing and tossed them aside somewhere on the floor.

I pulled the neat pile of cloth over to me. The fabrics were soft, cotton and leather. Thankfully he had given me pants so I wouldn't have to worry about baring my tender, pink legs to the elements or the people. I pulled them on and was pleased to find them loose, but not so much so that they would fall off easily. The cotton shirt was loose and flowing as well, and didn't cling to my still healing skin. Lastly was a dark blue cloak, similiar to his, with intricate designs embroidered along the edges in charcoal grey.

This cloak was strange as it felt as light as air. After securing it about my shoulders, I found myself checking just to make sure I had really put it on. I slipped my feet into a pair of soft hide boots next to the bed that fit like a glove. Carefully, I reached out and traced my fingertips over the middle ridge of the mask before picking it up. Looking around the room I found a mirror. It was time to see the damage with my own eyes.

I walked slowly over to it. It took me a few moments, filled with deep breaths and courageous words to myself before I finally had the guts to look up at my reflection. Once I did so, I immediately regretted it. I was horrified by what I saw.

One of my eyes was surrounded by glossy, fresh pink flesh. The eye itself, though I could see from it, was no longer a brilliant blue, but a murky green. My opposite cheek had a fleshy patch that looked as though a jagged chunk had been torn from it, the edges charred. I could see the glossy pink flesh beneath where it was slowly healing. How could this not been grotesque to Jace? With tears in my eyes, I quickly slipped the mask over my face and secured it. I pulled the hood into place and looked back at the mirror. Slowly, an intricate pattern began to glow blue around where my eyes were beneath the mask. It was beautiful, but my mind's eye could only see the damage beneath. I turned away from the mirror and stalked out of the room, determined and hoping to forget what had become of me.


End file.
